Terrible Temptations
by Carleen
Summary: Comfort, friendship, and love sustain Master Chief through the long nights after Cortana's Death. What, after all, are friends for? Explicit.
1. Terrible Temptations Prologue

TITLE: Terrible Temptations

CHAPTER: Prologue

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><p>"Do you really think it is weakness that yields to temptation? I tell you that there are terrible temptations which it requires strength, strength, and courage to yield to." —Oscar Wilde<p>

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><p>Spartans are not accustomed to sleeping flat on their back, spread out comfortably, with plenty of room for their long limbs. They certainly never get used to the feel of a pillow supporting their head or a soft blanket over their chest and feet. To be naked, without armor and a weapon close at hand, an almost certain death sentence. Yet, here he was comfortable, warm and at peace. Although the journey to this place of respite had been difficult, he could no longer remember why he resisted in the first place.<p>

The taste of the meal he'd enjoyed last night had been unusual. Cleared away hours before, the sultry, rich scent of red wine, and the beefsteak still drifted on the warm air of the room. The crusty taste of the sourdough bread had pleased him. Fresh, warm, and yeasty the feel of the crust in his mouth had been an adventure. The wine they'd enjoyed, another delightful discovery. He'd probably had too much of both, but he'd had the unusual opportunity last night to eat and drink his fill. The food, the company, and the comfort of real sleep, are rare indulgences for a man who lives on the battlefield and sleeps in a Cryotank.

Wide-awake now, his eyes adjust quickly to the darkness and the Spartan continues his perusal of the room. An officer's quarters, which meant the almost unheard of luxuries of a private latrine and small kitchen. A few personal mementos jockey for position among books, weapons and electronic devices. There's a uniform neatly draped over a chair, with boots lined up with military precision beneath. The only light in the room is the pale blue of the Comm panel by the door. The blue light signals the unit is off and means do not disturb. Even the A.I.'s pedestal is dark. Which is also unusual, he thinks, as he rolls to his side.

The movement bared his back and a draft of cool air from the air recycler shivers down his spine. Almost immediately, a long arm replaces the blanket over his shoulder. The arm yields to his grasp and the body behind him moves obediently closer. The warm, sensuous length of feminine curves warms his backside as no blanket ever could. The fingers splayed over his abdomen sent a thrill of anticipation coursing along his already sensitized nerve endings. After tucking her legs under his, he felt and heard a long sigh as the woman fell back to sleep.

A gentle hand on his cheek directs his gaze down to a pair of brown eyes set in a boyishly handsome face. As he contemplates these sensations and the promise of safe haven in the touch and reflective eyes, he realizes, with a sudden grip on the fingers touching his face, that Cortana hadn't been his first thought when opened his eyes.

~o0o~


	2. Terrible Temptations Chapter 1

TITLE: Terrible Temptations

CHAPTER: 1, Wayfaring Stranger

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><p>"I'm just a poor wayfarin' stranger,<p>

While travelin' through this world below.

Yet there's no sickness, no toil, nor danger,

In that bright land to which I go."

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><p><em><strong>Four Months Earlier...<strong>_

"You found him," she whispered pulling to a stop just behind Captain Lasky where he stood in an empty corridor.

Captain Lasky nodded and looked to his friend with eyebrows raised. When Commander Palmer smiled and nodded her encouragement. The Skipper headed toward the viewscreen. In just a few steps, he stood behind the silent giant staring out at Earth.

The Skipper of the Infinity knew his crew referred to him as mother hen or den mother behind his back. They also respected him and he could take a little teasing. It's a command style that works for him. He has the best people working for him, because the Infinity and her crew attract the best and brightest. No commanding officer is prouder of their crew than him.

"Mind if I join you, Chief?"

Although most soldiers considered the Master Chief more of a legend than an actual man. Many argued that he was just a heavily augmented cyborg and not human at all. No one knew his feelings or his opinions, because no one ever thought to ask him. He did his job and he was the best at what he did.

There are no statistics about how many Spartans died protecting humanity. No one really knew how many lives he'd saved. The soldiers only knew that if you were lucky enough to see a Spartan on the battlefield, your chances of making it to the next poker game got much better.

If you cared to look closer, if it were possible to see through the Mjolnir armor to the still and silent man staring out the viewscreen. If you could get close enough to him to count his heart rate or notice the rapid rise and fall of his breath, you'd notice the outward calm of his demeanor hides the inner turmoil of his losing battle with rising emotions. The doctors explained that his pituitary implant is gone, shattered in the Librarian's attempt to protect him from the Didact. The reality is a painful maelstrom of unexpressed guilt and growing despondency.

Although he never doubted his ability to bend any circumstance to his will, he cannot control the desire to put his fist through the viewscreen, grab Earth and crush it in his fist. How dare they taunt him by living their lives as if nothing has happened? If he stood very still, he could will it away. He could do it. He could find his way back to… before. Back to the man who had no thoughts other than battlefield success and no life beyond fighting and the night-blindness of Cryosleep.

He didn't intent to break down. Didn't intend to give rein to the emotions churning inside him. But he can't stop the empty silence inside his head, or the vacuum left by her departure filling with rage. She's gone and it should have been him. They should have gone together. He's lost everyone he ever cared about, but not her, not Cortana. She was his to keep; he'd earned the right to keep something for himself. Hadn't he?

If he listened hard enough, he will hear her voice again. The humor, the intelligence, and her beauty will shine again in his mind. He will protect her as he always had.

Who will watch over me now as I sleep?

Startled by the Captain's greeting, he responded quickly as if embarrassed at being caught at doing something wrong. "Of course not, sir."

Lasky peered into the golden visor, wishing he could see the man's eyes. He noticed the Spartan's hands were curled into fists.

"At ease, Chief. Seems a little strange for you to be calling me sir. We've know each other a long time. Please, it's Tom."

There is no one left alive who knows my name.

In the quiet of the darkened corridor, Captain Lasky stood silently next to the Spartan and thinking about how to reach him. Although they shared the same view of Earth, their thoughts took very different paths. The Captain could not stand by and watch the troubled Spartan suffer alone. Compelled to connect with the charismatic man, the Captain tried a different tact.

"You don't talk much do you, Chief?" Captain Lasky said quietly, offering an opening and hoping for a response. But one does not tease a Spartan. So when the Master Chief didn't react, he tried again. "I've lost people I cared about before, but nothing like what you're going through."

"It's our duty to protect humanity, whatever the cost."

A trickle of sweat wandered down Lasky's back. As he predicted Master Chief planned to simply bury any emotional response to Cortana's death. Don't feel, don't grieve, don't react. But Lasky learned over the years that burying unpleasant emotions yielded nothing but torment and sadness.

"We're just people, Chief. Yes, we're soldiers and our duty is often very difficult, but we're people too. People with needs and hopes and dreams. Don't deny yourself a time to grieve."

"And what good would that do, sir?" The Spartan's voice lashed out.

Lasky stood his ground.

"Shall I break down and jeopardize a mission? Endanger others while I grieve over an A.I. who was nothing more than an elaborate and highly technical arrangement of ones and zeros?"

"Chief, you don't mean that."

The Spartan stumbled forward, placing his palm on the viewscreen as if it were the only thing capable of keeping him on his feet.

"She said that to me once, about being a machine." The Spartan murmured his words so lacerated by pain Lasky had his hand on the man's armored forearm before his brain acknowledged the movement.

"Chief." How to get through to this wounded man? He would not use the word broken. There was a human man inside that armor and he would reach him. "You're not a machine."

The Spartan stared down at the hand on his arm. "Captain … I don't understand."

"I hardly understand this myself. You're larger than life, Chief. You took care of me once, I guess I'm trying to return the favor."

"I don't need or require what you are offering."

Refusing to rise to the bait of Master Chief's anger, Lasky kept his voice quiet. "What do you need, Chief? A friend? A shoulder? I'm the CO of this ship, but, I know what it's like to stand alone."

Lasky extended his hand. Master Chief stared at it for several long moments before returning the simple embrace.

"And you believe above anyone else that you understand me?"

"Because I know what it feels like to be isolated with people all around you."

"She was all I had."

At last, a genuine response. Lasky used the grip of Master Chief's hand to pull himself closer. "Let me help. I'm not Cortona, but—."

"—No you're not. You're a warm hand offering friendship and understanding."

"I've watched many men grieve. I understand your reluctance to remove the armor. Do you have her chip?"

"It's here," said the Chief indicating the back of his helmet. "Where it belongs."

"I understand. Chief?" Lasky tugged on the hand he held as if too much pressure might break the fragile connection. "Will you come with me? Let's get that armor off and see the docs."

The Spartan stepped back and snatched his hand from the Captain's grip.

Lasky swallowed hard and kept talking, "You watched her sacrifice herself. You saw her fade away. But, she's still here," Lasky placed a hand on the Spartan's chest piece. These were probably more words then he'd said in his entire life. He was not a talkative man. A fact, pointed out to him by the handful of women he'd allowed into his life. But they hadn't been military, so they hadn't understood. After time, they simply drifted out of his life. He'd known the fault was his and he'd known it was better that way.

Sarah Palmer understood and he suspected the Master Chief did to. Which is why he would continue to try to reach the Spartan.

"Chief, she's here in your heart. Where no one can take it away."

The golden visor stared down at him. The armored body as immovable as a granite statue.

"But, what would she say to you if she were here?" Come on Chief, Lasky said silently, give me something to work with. Then the moment came.

"I believe… I believe she would say, get moving, Spartan. And, never let me live down calling her a bunch of ones and zeroes."

"From what I saw of her, I think you're right," Lasky responded, smiling. "Now, come on and let's get you settled in."

The Captain started off down the corridor without looking back. Then he heard the sound of the Master Chief's heavy footsteps on the deck plating and didn't bother suppressing the breath of relief or the grin that broke out on his normally somber appearance. When he passed the spot where he knew Commander Palmer stood he glanced quickly at her before she disappeared down a hallway.

An hour later the Spartan reported in to Captain Lasky. Showered, changed out of his armor into a set of BDUs, the Master Chief still managed to cut an imposing figure standing in the hatchway to his office.

"Please come in, Chief. Sit down."

The Spartan found the oversized reinforced chair and sat down. As he sat back, he noticed the lights in the room were dimmed. That was a thoughtful, he thought. Without the filters of his armor and visor, it always took several hours for him to grow accustomed to the harsh lighting. It was those same filters which kept him from actually perceiving the finer points of a person's expression or facial characteristics. Now, as he watched the Captain resume his seat, he could see the warmth in the brown eyes and hear the sincerity in the man's words.

What Captain Lasky saw in those hooded cobalt eyes nearly made him shiver. The dark almost blue-black depths were weary and — he couldn't think of a better word — haunted. The Spartan's right arm was secured in an arm sling. The CMO had already briefed him on the Master Chief's injuries. The broken ribs, separated shoulder and exposure to the vacuum of space would heal with rest and medical care. And, he had a plan.

"Chief, I could use your help. What do you think about having some work to do?"

The Spartan's head came up and their eyes met and held. Then Master Chief nodded his head slowly, his shoulders relaxed and expression softened. Lasky came around the front of his desk.

"It'll be okay, Chief. Everything will be okay."

"Thank you, sir."


	3. Terrible Temptations Chapter 2

TITLE: Terrible Temptations

CHAPTER: 2, Truth

AN: Here we go. I even Googled a search for Master Chief/Lasky pairings and found nothing but a reference to a conversation on a blog site. Never one to back down from a challenge. Especially one as wickedly evil as this, I present you with the following. I only hope I did them justice. I wish I were a better writer. Okay... so you're warned. Right? If this isn't your thing, then please don't read - _evil grin -_ I'm having a good time with it though.

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><p>The truth is rarely pure and never simple." ―Oscar Wilde, <em>The Importance of Being Earnest<em>

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><p><strong><em>Three Months Earlier...<em>**

The gym was his sanctuary. An hour of peace and quiet, he reserved for himself at the end of a normal sixteen-hour days. A hard workout cleared his head and a hot shower revived him. Then he could grab a few hours of sleep and be ready to face another busy duty day. He loved the work and enjoyed the pace, although he sometimes wondered just how many more years he could keep it up. Humanity had been at war his entire adult life. What would it feel like to slow down or live in a galaxy at peace?

What he does know is the UNSC Infinity is his responsibility. In times of war or peace, his duty day will begin again in five hours. With a towel wrapped around his waist, Captain Lasky shaved and combed his thick hair until the natural wave finally gave up and obediently disappeared.

Behind him, on the other side of the locker room, a shower turned off. The sound of the sharp slap of a fist hitting the shower wall peaked his curiosity. Someone must have come in while he was himself in the shower. Normally, allowed his privacy, in fact other than this moment, no one had dared interrupt his privacy. So he couldn't help but wonder at the identity of the other person.

A quick look around the corner revealed the bulk of The Master Chief's body enveloped in steam and crowding the tiled walls of the stall. Why is he here, Lasky wondered? Instead of Spartan Town, where everything was built on a larger scale.

As the steam cleared, the obvious body language communicated clearly to the Captain. Something was wrong. With both hands braced on the wall, the Spartan shook his head as if to clear it.

"Chief, everything okay?" Lasky ventured.

"Yes, sir…. No, sir."

"Is that a _yes_, call a medic? Or _no_, leave me alone."

The Spartan stepped out of the stall and faced the officer. As the steam cleared, Lasky's mouth went dry. Standing tall, as if he were at attention, apparently at ease with his nudity and the very obvious erection was the Master Chief. Water ran in rivulets over the sculpted body

Lasky swallowed hard, his knees suddenly feeling not up to holding himself upright.

"I-I'll leave you alone, Chief. To take care of… your needs."

"Painful."

"Well, take care of it and it'll go away," he said with a grin he hoped would defuse the situation into a humorous moment. It's his intention to walk away from this very personal situation. Until, he remembered something about the Spartan IVs. Years and years of emotional control and suppression of their libido left these men and women with an incomplete understanding of their own sexuality. Lasky scrubbed a hand through his hair. Had the man never…?

Was he actually about to have _the talk _with a Spartan? Befriend him yes. Provide support, of course. Well, he hadn't risen to the captaincy of the flagship of the UNSC Fleet without learning a thing or two about...

"Roland!"

The ship's A.I. responded instantly. "Sir!"

"Close this channel and lock the door. If anyone enters this room, I will personally reprogram you and you'll be wearing a French maid's outfit instead of that pilot getup. Clear?"

"Crystal, sir! Aye, sir! No need to threaten, sir."

"Roland!" When Lasky heard the door mechanism lock, he tightened the towel around his waist and faced the bewildered Spartan.

"Chief? If I understand you, this is the first time you've experienced…" _Shit, what was he doing here? _Was he actually saying these words? He should just leave. Right now. Pull on his uniform and get back to the bridge. _Do it. Now. Move, Lasky._ Then the Spartan said the word and there's no going back now.

"Arousal? Yes, sir."

A piece of an emotional wall fell; Lasky heard it in his mind and felt his body respond.

_Get out of here. Let the man have his peace. _

"May I step closer, Chief?" Lasky took the Spartan's silence as permission. Adrenaline surged through the Captain's body as the sight and smell of the Spartan filled his senses. It was one thing to see the man in the famous armor. The reality was a sculpted body with broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist and hips. Powerful legs and arms bulging with taut and rounded muscles. Lasky noticed the man's shoulders prickled with goose flesh, while scars stood out in relief against the pale chilled skin. Lasky reached for a towel and placed it gently across the Spartan's shoulders. That much, he could manage.

He should stop now and leave. The look in the Chief's eyes fixed him where he stood. Unconsciously, the hands that placed the towel over the massive shoulders moved over the firm skin, smoothing the chill away.

"Chief. I don't want you to be in pain. But if this goes much further we're about to break some pretty specific rules about fraternization. Let me help you or tell me to leave."

"How?"

_How?_ The man didn't know how to take care of himself. Well, Lasky hadn't gotten this far in his career without witnessing a few things. From humans torturing and killing each other in the name of religion or politics, to some strange sexual customs.

Lasky swallowed hard and tried to keep his voice even, "Nothing new. Nothing every guy since Adam hasn't done for himself."

"Show me." The Spartan grabbed Lasky's hand and placed it on the rigid pulsing member. Suddenly dizzy, Lasky closed his eyes and leaned into the massive wall of the Spartan's body.

Master Chief circled an arm around Lasky's shoulders when he felt him sag. "Show me," he urged with a squeeze. Lasky turned his face into the man's chest and took an experimental hold of the Spartan's rigid weeping flesh. Scorching his hand as he moved his hand up and down, Lasky heard himself moan as if he was in pain and turned the emotion he could no longer hide into the Spartan's embrace

Every muscle in the Spartan's body tensed and he took a step toward the shower wall away from Lasky.

"It… stop."

"Give me your hand, Chief. Like this. Trust me." Lasky cupped his hand over the end of the Chief's weeping organ and stroked the natural lubricant down over the thick shaft. The Chief groaned the sound rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest and grinding its way across his vocal cords like broken glass.

"Help me," Lasky whispered. "Push." Lasky kissed the hard pectoral muscle under his cheek. Then of its own accord, his mouth began to forage and when he sucked hard on the nipple, Master Chief came up on his toes.

"This is… don't stop!"

"You're doing fine… trust me… let it happen."

The Chief's heart jackhammered against Lasky's cheek. He felt the exact moment Master Chief chose to let go, when he began to piston his hips against the Captain's hand.

The Chief's hand splayed over Lasky's cheek and pressed him against his chest. With an urgency no longer his to command the smaller man opened his lips to taste the ridgeline of pectoral muscles again. His free hand moved downwards to cup the muscular gluteus and firm back.

"You're amazing. Come to me… that's it, Chief."

Master Chief's body tightened and boiled with energy, like lightning on a summer's night. With one hand over Lasky's and his other hand, holding the Captain against his side, he gave into the aching hunger of his body. Dimly aware of the Captain's trembling, he wondered if he were hurting him. But he couldn't move any further than pushing himself into the hand that gripped him or open his eyes, because he'd backed them both against the wall.

Then in a long overdue moment, the Master Chief experienced his release. With a groan as deep and resonating as thunder his mind lasered to the point where Lasky touched him. Nerve endings ignited, sending a pulse like plasma fire down his spine. Deep in his belly, something broke free. White heat blinded him and a pain like death flashed across his muscles. As his body emptied, release arched across the shower stall to the opposite side of the green tiled wall.

"Be easy, Chief." Then in the turning of a universe that could still hold such surprises, Lasky glanced across the heaving chest and up to the frowning face of his friend and wanted very much to feel something more. The isolation of his own role on this ship reminded him of his own need for human contact. How long had it been? He couldn't remember the last time and he realized it no longer mattered. With a firm hand, he pulled the Chief's head down to his. At the sudden weight of the smaller man's body against his, the Chief instinctively steadied him with his hands on Lasky's hips.

"Here's something else I can show you," and Lasky placed the whisper of a kiss on the Spartan's mouth. The larger man responded by pulling away abruptly. The movement shifted Lasky's last defense and it fell to the tiled floor in a puddle around his bare feet. The Chief stared while his eyes raked over the human's body.

"You are arou—"

"—Yes."

No! Pull yourself together, Lasky warned himself. You're the Captain of this ship. "This was _wrong_, Chief_. _I have to get back to work. I apologize for intruding."

"Intruding? Sir?" When the Spartan swayed forward into the pressure of the smaller human hand the movement knocked Lasky off balance and he fell forward too. Master Chief caught him with is arms around his waist and yanked him hard against his body.

"What you have done—"

"—could get us both thrown in the brig. No, Chief. I'm sorry. Forget about this… what happened here. I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have." Lasky twisted away. In seconds, the Captain was dressed and out the door. While the Master Chief stood alone, his body spent with an exhaustion, he'd never known and a deep satisfaction he intended to experience again.


	4. Terrible Temptations Chapter 3

TITLE: Terrible Temptations

CHAPTER: 3, Always With You

AN: Apologies to those of you receiving notification of this chapter twice. I published it too quickly and before I'd gone over it enough. Still doesn't have much tension in the story. I understand the mechanics of creating tension, but I don't seem to be able to create it in my stories. Thanks for dropping by. Question, since as far as I can tell I'm the first to write this pairing do I get to name it? Chasky? LOL!

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><p>"No good deed goes unpunished." —Oscar Wilde<p>

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><p>On a ship the size of the UNSC Infinity most of the crew never speaks to the Captain. Layers of supervision beginning with the petty officers, the junior officers, to department heads and senior staff form links in a chain of command. A tradition of authority that is hundreds of years old keeps lines of communication clear and direct. And woe to the sailor who tries to break the chain, by speaking to an officer without invitation. Except at staff meetings and inspections, or unless you were assigned to the bridge, you might never see him. This morning, with his thoughts in turmoil, that tradition suited Captain Thomas Lasky perfectly.<p>

The Captain of a ship must stand apart from his crew. To hold himself to the highest standards of leadership and role model for his crew to follow. Personal friendships interfere with that role by blurring the lines of relationships and familiarity breaks down discipline. Very few men and women can sustain this model of behavior, even fewer try; even less honored with the privilege.

The Captain of the Infinity is one of those singular men. A fine officer, a natural leader, and a brave man. After a rough start in military school, he forced himself into the mold of the man he believed he needed to become. By setting goals and learning from every experience, wisely chosen role models helped mold him into the officer he is today. It's not that he doesn't have a heart or feelings or care about his people. He does care, with a ferocity he usually buries because of its intensity. Long ago, he learned to hold the emotions at bay. That is the lesson he learned at sixteen when he listened to his brother's dying words and watched Chyler die in his arms.

This morning, with a shaky grip on that persona, Captain Lasky placed his sleepy third officer in charge of the bridge and headed below decks. He intends to keep running until he sweats every guilty feeling, every desire and erotic thought out his pores. After that, he is certain the incident with the Master Chief will erase itself from his list of things to worry about. Banish it to one of those small black emotional boxes, boxes where he long ago tucked his heart. He'll make it a damned order if he has to.

The hangar deck offers the best refuge, because the night shift is still on duty. For almost a half a mile, a fleet of Pelicans shields him from onlookers. Duty rosters, training, promotions, and missions distract him from the feelings lurking just below the surface, waiting to pounce. The sleeve of his sweatshirt clears his eyes, and he sees the Pelican. It's _the Pelican_. Along with the Master Chief, his crew managed to recover the Pelican he kitted out for the Master Chief to pursue the Didact's ship. Lasky's eyes travel over the hull. The brave old girl is still dinged up, but she stands proudly on her pad. The crew hasn't had time for cosmetic repairs, but she's passed her checklist and ready for the next mission. Memories of that day well up and he swipes an arm over his eyes again.

Curious, he thinks as he jogged passed. The ramp is down and he wonders why. Ordinarily at the end of a shift all maintenance is buttoned up and secured. All the tools put away and accounted for. His feet make a clattering noise on the metal deck plate. Chest heaving with exertion he doesn't stop until his hands grip the back of the pilot's chair. The cockpit smells of sweat and grease, of fear and courage and relentless determination to win. Lasky breathes it in, sucking it deep into his lungs. These are familiar to him and helps him catch his breath. But the memories are waiting for him as he relaxes. As his breathing quiets, the memories come back like an unexpected blow. The Spartan's boundless courage and tenacity, the strength of the arm around his bare shoulders and the innocent trust in the man's eyes. The look of genuine surprise on the Spartan's face when he made the choice to stop resisting and allow his body's needs to find release.

Lasky pounds a fist into the chair. _It shouldn't have happened._ Why had he turned back and sought the identity of… He should have dressed and walked away.

"I don't even know your name," the Captain sighed into the quiet gloom of the empty cockpit. This confused longing must stop, he told himself. He didn't listen.

"It's not something we share with outsiders," a deep, resonant voice said behind him.

Fingers gouged into the leather pilot's chair. Adrenaline flooded his bloodstream in a cascade flow of desire and sent his heart pounding. The response to the Spartan's presence caught him without defenses against the onslaught of desire. Breath stubbornly refused to fill his lungs.

"Are you ill, sir?"

The Master Chief observed the body language of the now silent Captain. Their encounter in the locker room had not been far from the Spartan's thoughts. All through the long night he'd reviewed and cataloged each sensation. Although he knew instinctively how intensely personal it had been, he was more confused by the flood of sensations created out of simply being touched. While a steaming hot shower had always been one of his greatest pleasures, the events that had transpired afterwards confused him. His body had always been a simple tool. A tool that enabled him to move quickly, exert great force and strength when called upon to act. He could shoot farther, act quickly, and fight harder. That he could be immobilized by his body's needs and desires had never occurred to him.

It was the memory that instigated the encounter that kept circling in his mind. He'd used his greater strength and size to force the Captain to show him... Apologizing was the least he could do. Because no matter what else he was, a Spartan, an augmented human, a mysterious man in body armor, he was also an NCO. An NCO assaulting an officer was a court-martial offense.

The Spartan cocked his head and waited for the Captain to respond. When he didn't the Chief continued, "Captain Lasky… Assaulting an officer is a punishable offense. There are charges."

"Charges?" Lasky spun around confusion written on every line of his expression. "For what?"

"Sir, I will not have you humiliated in a military court. I will retire."

"Retire?" Lasky asked, his voice rising. "Retire and go where?"

The Spartan shook his head, "Where I can forget that through my careless actions I lost the two individuals I respect most. Forget my last official military action was assaulting an officer."

Lasky closed the space between them in three strides. "Look at me." Peering up at the Chief and forcing him to meet his eyes. "You will not leave this ship."

"Sir…"

"Stop calling me, sir," Lasky said, fisting his hands into the collar of the Spartan's uniform. Then he pushed himself away and turned his back to Master Chief. Lasky laughed quietly, "Let's drop the rank thing for just a second. I'm other things besides an officer, Chief. A simple man, sometimes a lonely man, who for a moment felt needed, as if he could offer something more than just orders or leadership or sending young men and women to their death. A moment so intense he forgot himself. But he never allows that to happen. Never forgets who he is…"

Large hands covered his shoulders. The unexpected contact covered him like a warm blanket. Lasky helplessly leaned into it. All the promises he'd made himself evaporated in the comforting heat of the Spartan's touch.

"May I admit something to you, Chief?"

Master Chief squeezed the man's shoulders gently. "Of course."

The Chief's breath on the back of his neck made him shiver. "The only time I've genuinely felt safe is when you're around. That horrific night at Corbulo."

The Spartan tilted Lasky's chin up. The acceptance he found there gave him the courage he needed to keep talking "So many years ago. Tom, don't you know? I've always been with you."

"Chief," he said quietly and turned his face against the large hand resting on his shoulder. The Captain held himself very still. Was this real? Was it even possible? "There will be no charges."

The Master Chief continued."Then I want to admit something."Yesterday. If it is... If you want... I want to experience that again." Lasky felt the Spartan's forehead rest on the top of his head. Laughing with relief, Lasky turned in the circle of the Spartan's embrace and grinned up at him. "Yes, Chief. I'll admit to that too. Maybe somewhere warmer and drier than that latrine?"

The Spartan shrugged, with mischief in his eyes."It's the officer's latrine."

"Yeah, about that. What were you doing in there?"

The clattering of feet on the ramp startled them both.

"There you are," Commander Palmer called from the bottom of the ramp.

The Master Chief dropped his hands and straightened. To let go of the man in front of him proved very difficult. Painful. Almost as painful as losing… He pushed the memory away and watched Lasky step back and square his shoulders, tugging at the hem of his jacket. They had about three seconds before Palmer joined them.

"Experience what again?" Palmer asked, glancing at the two men. "They need you on the bridge, Captain."

"Ship's Comms stop working?" Lasky asked, eyebrows raised.

"They're working fine, sir. Seems Roland is being rather protective of you these days. Don't know why."

"But, how did you know I was here?" Lasky asked, genuinely confused.

"Easy. You always come here when you've got something on your mind." Commander Palmer headed back down the ramp.

Walking easily, their strides, quick and long, the men followed her. They took with them the knowledge that something came to life between them a few minutes ago. Something to trust and something worth pursuing. As they turned to go their separate ways they exchanged a quick glance to reassure the other of the truth of what happened between them.


	5. Terrible Temptations Chapter 4

TITLE: Terrible Temptations

CHAPTER: 4, More Questions Than Answers

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><p>"Some cause happiness wherever they go; others whenever they go." - Oscar Wilde<p>

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><p><em>"Spartan 117, report to Commander Palmer's office. Spartan 117, Master Chief please report to Commander Palmer's office."<em>

Although he didn't show it the summons surprised him. It was probably a mistake to assume all his dealings on the ship would be with Captain Lasky. Truthfully, he was ready to get back to work. Whether it was training, or teaching, didn't really matter. He wasn't used to inactivity and there were only so many hours he could spend in the gym. Master Chief reluctantly saved his work to his personal file, logged out of the computer and headed for a comm panel to acknowledge the call.

The petty officer in charge of the records vault walked the Spartan to the door.

"Thank you for your assistance, Petty Officer Snyder."

"Any time, Master Chief. Any time. Door's always open for you."

The Spartan spared him a quick look with his eyebrows raised. "Is it?"

The young sailor blushed, "No, sir. Vault's always locked up tighter than the Captain's single malt scotch collection!"

The Spartan reached out and shook the sailor's hand. He could do this. He could share a joke. His confidence rose when the young man visibly relaxed.

With a final nod, the Spartan headed down the hallway. As he walked, he reviewed the information he discovered researching Requiem, the Didact's ship and the information the scientists compiled. Some of the results were still classified above his level or inconclusive, which was surprising since he'd actually been there. But he intended to continue his research. Tomorrow he would try to speak to the group of scientists assigned to the project. If there were a chance Cortana survived, he would find it.

He also thought about the events of the last week and whether or not he should seek out the Captain and what he might say if he did. Master Chief wondered what Cortana might say if she knew about what happened between him and Captain Lasky. Would she tease him? Would she give him that scolding look? An unbidden thought trickled through and he realized it was probably good she would never know. Why would he hide that from her? He compared ideas about intimacy and which was more intensely personal, the moment he shared with the Captain or Cortana's almost continual presence in his mind?

The loss of that presence a constant reminder of her absence. Still, it was an interesting puzzle. Could anyone understand what it was like to have a presence in your mind, monitoring every heartbeat, every rise in blood pressure. The intensity of Lasky's hands on him had been as intense as fighting the Covenant or fighting for his life in a no win scenario.

In those cases he ignored his body's fight or flight instinct and used the adrenaline rush to strengthen himself. With Lasky it had been the opposite, he'd given in to it, sailed rudderless through the currents of the sensations they created together and brought to a natural crescendo.

It was happening again. Curious, he thought as he examined and monitored the rising blood pressure. The odd sensation of blood pooling deep in his belly, the lightheaded feeling. His memories of those moments were very clear. They danced in the back of his mind, tempting him, threatening to come forward and propel him to seek, to find resolution.

The door to Commander Palmer's office lay around the next corner. With some reluctance he focused on the coming interview, he was a little surprised when his body failed to obey his mind. And what would Cortana have to say about this lapse in combat readiness. He wasn't entering a battle, he reminded himself. No, simply reporting in.

"Spartan 177, reporting as ordered, ma'am."

The Spartan commander didn't rise from her desk. "Master Chief."

Tempted to return her gaze, the Spartan kept his eyes focused on the wall behind her. He did not know this woman personally. Only by her considerable reputation. At any rate, it was always better to let the officer set the tone of a meeting. Interesting that she hadn't given him the command for at ease or offered him a chair.

"So, how does it feel to be out of a job, Master Chief?"

Unaccustomed to playing politics, the Spartan decided to keep the three probable conclusions to himself. Either, he was being retired, court martialed or she was joking. This particular Spartan IV who wore her Scout Variant Mjolnir armor during normal duty hours didn't appear to be the joking type. Then he remembered she'd witnessed him disobey a direct order from Captain del Rio. He'd better come up with a response.

"I don't understand, ma'am." At least that was an honest response, he thought.

"And I don't have time for NCOs who disobey direct orders from their superiors. My Spartan IVs are professional soldiers. Will you have a problem fitting in, Spartan?"

Quickly suppressing the ghost of a smile that touched his lips. He'd seen plenty of her professional soldiers drinking heavily and boasting of their exploits with women. He'd never had a drink in his life. None of the Spartan IIs drank alcohol or used drugs. Chief Mendez would have dropped them in a wilderness without food or water for a month if he'd caught them sneaking alcohol. It never seemed to matter though. He and his Spartan brothers and sisters were always more interested in learning, and the friendly competition of training.

The Commander had come around her desk to stand directly in front of him. With her armor on she was roughly two inches taller.

"Something amusing you, Master Chief?"

Actually, this whole situation was amusing. He could imagine what Cortana would be whispering to him right now.

"No, ma'am. Wondering why you feel the need for intimidation." Then he deliberately focused his eyes into hers. "Is this a technique you must use with your Spartan IVs, ma'am?"

Her mouth opened slightly in response and it was several seconds before she responded. During that time, Master Chief took the opportunity to study the woman in front of him. Kelly came to mind. For as long as he'd known her, she'd never lost her youthful appearance. Never lost the look of delight and surprise at what life had to offer.

The women in front of him had a hardness about her. A line on the bridge of her nose, which spoke of her determination. Tiny lines ran from the corners of her eyes. Probably not from laughing, but from intense concentration and stress. With her hair pulled so severely back from her face, she seemed more defensive than hard.

"I also don't allow fraternization between my officers and enlisted. My Spartans have a job to do and between training and missions there's no time. Based on what I've seen that seems to be a problem for you."

Her mouth is bracketed with indented lines as she frowned. He decided she was pretty and might be prettier if she smiled.

"Is it what?"

"A problem for you?"

"Are you basing that assumption on the one conversation you witnessed between Captain Lasky and myself in the Pelican?" He had to be sure. It's not as if he thought she might have been hiding in one of the bathroom stalls, but…

"One conversation, Spartan?"

"Shortly after I was brought aboard, we spoke briefly."

The Spartan II resisted the impulse to turn around when the door opened behind him.

"Commander Palmer are you giving my Spartan a hard time?"

Captain Lasky, of course. The familiar voice only confirmed what his senses reported. The captain didn't wear cologne, so Master Chief knew the natural scent of the man, the sound of his movement through the air and the rhythm of his footsteps.

Lasky walked directly up behind the Spartan and quickly squeezed the hands clasped behind the broad back. With the Spartan's size blocking his movement there is no way Commander Palmer could have noticed. Then, as if nothing happened Lasky poured himself some coffee and indicated a chair to the Master Chief.

"Commander Palmer, I spoke very briefly to the Chief about giving him some meaningful work while he's here with us."

With the sharp eyes of an officer accustomed to judging the behavior and motivations of soldiers, she observed the two men. The Master Chief was still at parade rest, but something had distracted him a moment ago. Was it the entrance of the Captain or something the Captain said or did? There was something between them. She might be a better soldier than an intuitive woman, but there was chemistry between these two.

Palmer clicked something on her computer screen. Nodding her head, "The CMO released you to duty, Chief. Feel up to getting back to work?"

Now she was insulting him. While his respect and military bearing was always above question, he was unaccustomed to anyone speaking to him like this. Captain Keyes… No, not even the very serious and by-the-book Captain Keyes spoke to him in this antagonistic tone.

Master Chief pulled himself to attention, which brought him almost eye to eye with the woman in the armor. His shoulders rolled forward and with his deeply hooded indigo eyes, he spoke directly into her face.

"Ma'am, _I am a Spartan II_, UNSC Master Chief, call sign Sierra 117 and_ I am up for _whatever you wish to throw my way, _Commander_."

Ah, he'd gotten his point across when he watched her eyes widen. It began slowly, with the flaring of her nostrils, then her brown velvet of her eyes light with inner fire. He was looking right at her and he watched the stern faced woman's face light up into a smile. Full pink lips spread wide, revealing white teeth. The corners of her eyes crinkled. She was beautiful. He'd been right all along.

He also realized he'd just been had.


End file.
